


Swim Until You're Free

by stratusdreams



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Gang Violence, It's not graphic though so don't worry, Jeanmarco as a side pairing, M/M, Mention of Drug Abuse, Mentions of Prostitution, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prostitution, Relationship Problems, Running Away, Sad, Triggers, and some Eruri, that pretty much sums it up, this is not a very happy story as you can tell, this was depressing to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-01-26 14:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1691045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratusdreams/pseuds/stratusdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren had always thought that Armin would never return to him. It'd been four years since he disappeared - why would he come back? It was pointless to hope. That is, up until Armin resurfaced.</p><p>Having a random man reappear inside your home is one thing. Having him be a former lover who disappeared four years before is another. And falling back into love with him - and learning to open yourself back up to life - is a completely different story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sunrise was never beautiful in Shinganshina. Maybe it was the heavy smog, so thick it could be cut with a knife. Maybe it was the crime, which stalked everyone at night and paralyzed them with fear. Maybe it was the helpless feeling the people had, knowing that they might never escape.

Or maybe it was because the sunrise could never be seen over the skyscrapers.

Either way, the sunrise was never a pretty thing, and this morning was no exception. The stars feebly and weakly glimmered from above, straining to survive for as long as possible. The moon was gone; the only thing left was the brutal light from the sun, bringing with it the horrors of another day in a volatile city where authority was nonexistent.

Eren pulled his quilt tighter around his shoulders as he slipped out onto what was left of his concrete porch, a troubled expression on his face. He sat down on the cold, cold steps and cringed. His hip had been bothering him as of late after an altercation in an ally way.

He sighed, straining to look over the massive buildings that stood between him and an ugly sunrise. Eren didn’t even know why he bothered looking at it anymore. His hands left the quilt’s edges and his face found its way into them. He had a headache. He was injured and bruised and beaten on the inside as well as the outside. Hell, he shouldn’t have even been outside. So why was he out here?

_You can always find beauty in something, his mother had said._

_Even in Shinganshina? Eren, who had been naïve and young and all too innocent, had asked. Yet even in that innocence, he still felt a chilliness deep in his heart._

_Even in Shinganshina, his mother had gently replied, putting a hand on his shoulder. Now, will you please do the dishes, sweetheart? They’ve been sitting there for two days._

Eren had found beauty in Shinganshina, but that beauty was long gone and dead. It had died the night his mother died; and then, it was kicked while it was down when Armin left, too.

There was no beauty in Shinganshina. And if there was, it wouldn’t be worth Eren’s time.

Eren stood up again, walking back inside his home and sitting down on the worn-out recliner. His mother used to sit there and embroider as she worked her worries about her husband away, choosing to make beautiful hoops instead of calling or writing or even speaking of him. The night his father left was the last time he heard his mother, Carla, speak of Grisha Jaeger. It was almost as if his name was a forbidden word, like saying it might break the world.

It might have, had Eren or Carla ever directly said it.

But they didn’t. They lived in a small bubble on Birch Avenue. This bubble was free of crime and dirt and sex and drugs. It was a safe haven. Refugees from the slums – men, women, children alike – would seek relief in the Jaeger household. Though she’d purse her lips and sigh heavily, Carla never turned anyone down. 

It wasn’t like her. Though she could be sharp and raised her voice when needed, Carla was not a cruel person. She was easily worried and protective, like any mother should. Her motherly nature didn’t just extend to Eren; it also extended to those who couldn’t fight for themselves, those who were weak from misery and anger and shame. Carla Jaeger was everyone’s mother, a kind, caring soul who loved people – and most of all, her son – more than herself.

Was she too virtuous, though?

Eren reflected on this as he leaned his head back in the chair, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. It was cracked, with jagged lines running through it. It would have to be fixed at some point, but money was scarce, so it would have to wait for a few more months.

Eren shot up suddenly. The bills! They were due this morning, and he had totally let them slip his mind. Hurriedly, he ran to his drawers, yanked out jeans and a hoodie, pulled on his shoes, grabbed the bills, and flew out the door. His old Volkswagen was sitting in the driveway still – a small miracle, considering the town’s crime rate. He hopped in, started it up, and sped off to the post office. 

When he reached Shinganshina’s post office, Eren took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. He’d neglected to brush his hair this morning, but it didn’t really matter. After a few minutes of evaluation, he concluded that he look at least somewhat good enough to walk around town. 

He dropped the bills off and headed back to his car, sitting in it for at least ten minutes. He wanted to leave, to run. But to where? There was no where he could really go.

Finally, he settled on heading over to Reiss Park. He mused that he could use the fresh air. Eren started his car and drove slowly over to the small park, located in the center of the city. It was surrounded by some of the nicer shops in town, like department stores and markets and small coffee shops. Reiss Park was a small oasis; keeping it clean and free of drug dealers, rapists, and other criminals was a small victory, a miracle, even.

The park was empty when he arrived, just as Eren had predicted. The chilly air made him pull his arms in close to his body as he took a seat on a bench. The fountain in the center was flowing feebly. Though it was nearly eight a.m., Shinganshina was still not fully awake. Eren couldn’t blame the people of the city; sometimes, he wished that sleeping for twenty years or longer was legal. Sometimes, he wished that he didn’t wake up at all.

It was so strange. Eren never remembered falling asleep on that bench, but he did. It was dangerous – how could anyone let themselves sleep in a park? In the most dangerous city in the country, to boot?

It didn’t matter. Eren woke up thirty minutes later at someone’s nudging. He opened his eyes, rubbed them, and looked to his left. No one there. He looked to his right, and there she was: Mikasa Ackerman, a good friend from his childhood and the only one of his close friends left. Mikasa was loyal to him, sure, but that wasn’t why she hadn’t left yet. She had little nieces and nephews to take care of after a meth lab explosion took both the children’s parents and her own. If it had not been for the young ones, Mikasa would have left a long time ago. But she had a responsibility.

What was Eren’s excuse for staying here? He had no family left. He had a job, but he could find a better one closer to the capital. He had a car, but it was in constant danger of getting stolen. He had a home, but the rent had gotten higher and his pay at work lower. There was nothing here for him. He didn’t have to be here, but something kept him in the godforsaken city of Shinganshina. He just wasn’t sure what it was. 

And when he found that reason, he would shake his head at it, sigh softly, and leave. No matter how much it hurt to leave it behind. 

“Oh, hey,” he said. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Of course you didn’t see me,” she replied. “You were asleep.”

“I don’t remember falling asleep.”

“Not many people do.” She looked away, the looked back, opening her mouth as if to say something. But she shut it again. Instead, she glanced at the ground and sighed heavily. Her lips formed a straight line and her gray eyes stared bleakly at the park. This was her default expression; it was calm, stoic, and unsettling to anyone who didn’t know her. And even then, it was still mildly unsettling.

Eren glanced over at her before trying to make small talk. “How have you been? Are the kids…are the kids fine?”

“Will has a fever. I’m taking him to the doctor today.” 

“Oh,” Eren said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Mikasa blinked and sat there in silence for a moment, tracing the patterns on her left hand with her right. “He should be okay.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah.” Mikasa stood up, dusting herself off before looking at Eren again. “I have to go. Goodbye.” And with that, she was gone.

Eren sighed. Mikasa was difficult to understand. How could anyone be so stoic and cold, yet be so blindly faithful in others? How could she be chillier than ice but still remain naïve?

It reminded Eren of his mother, with her dogged blindness when it came to the topic of crime or his father. She refused to discuss his disappearance. It was as if the ugly things in life were stains on a wall. If the stain wasn’t noticeable, she ignored it, pushing it to the back of her mind and telling Eren not to point it out. And if it was, she pulled out whatever she had – whitewash, white-out, crayons a shade off from the color of the wall – and covered it up, hiding it as best she could. It seemed the best way for her to survive mentally. And while it had worked for her (at least, that’s how it seemed), it never worked for Eren.

Eren had learned a long time ago that simply coloring over the stains on the walls of his heart did not erase them. It only made them angrier and more pronounced.

Eren smiled bitterly, reflecting on it all. Blindness could never save him. It never had in the first place.

A twig cracked. Eren’s head shot up, and his looked around. It might be someone dangerous, so he had to be on guard. He swallowed hard, feeling his heart racing.

That is, until he saw blond hair and the flash of a blue jacket.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look at you. You’re nervous and embarrassed by something. Your feet are tapping. You’re wringing your hands and hanging your head low. Are you scared of him? Or are you scared by the idea of him being back in your life?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the story's sake, I made Marco and Petra cousins. Just a heads up uwu
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Eren’s throat was tight, like a boa was in it. He couldn’t breathe or swallow. All he could do was gape at the figure, a state of panic settling over him. _This isn’t real, it’s not happening, it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real…!_ Eren struggled to make his legs work. They fought back, refusing to move the way he wished them to. The figure was drawing closer to him. The panic was turned up a notch as Eren jumped up from the bench, his legs finally deciding to be his ally.

Eren had never sprinted as fast as he had that morning. He could hardly remember why he was running or even who that was, but he had a vague feeling of disappointment alongside his panic. He didn’t remember the person; he couldn’t place their face, either. But he _did_ know them. It was a scary feeling, scarier than his panic. 

The car door was yanked open and Eren hopped inside, leaning his head against the back seat. _Fuck._ He pressed his palm to his temple, sighing heavily, willing himself not to cry.

It was no use. The tears fell anyway.

\---

After taking twenty minutes to compose himself, Eren drove to the only logical place to go: Marco’s house.

Marco Bodt was a brilliant, sweet young man. He was an aspiring therapist and wished to start his own office in Shinganshina at some point, after he got his degree. Marco knew exactly what he wanted, and he strived to get it. He had determination, will, and intellect. He was going to go far in life.

Eren knocked on the door and was greeted by a rough-looking young man with an under shave. “’Sup?” the man slurred, rubbing his eyes.

“I need to talk to Marco. Please,” Eren stammered, hating how small he sounded.

The man turned around. “Marco! Some guy here says he wants to see you.” He glanced at Eren, looking at him carefully. “And who’re you, anyway?”

“Eren,” he replied. 

The man mulled over this. “I’m Jean,” he said after a moment.

Finally, Marco appeared behind Jean. His eyes were soft and bright, like a fawn’s. Everything about him made him seem like he _was_ a fawn: his creamy skin, gentle gaze, sweet disposition. Eren couldn’t understand why some people hated Marco. It seemed impossible.

“Heya, Eren,” Marco beamed, a smile on his face. “Whatd’ya need?”

“I need to talk to you. Alone, preferably.” He snuck a look at Jean, who was wrinkling his nose as he inspected his cuticles.

“Yeah. Sure,” the fawn-like man replied. “Right this way.”

Eren didn’t need Marco to lead him. He had been here several times before. The office was exactly where it had always been: in the very back, beside their bedroom.

They took their seats. “So, Eren, what brings you here?” Marco asked.

“I…I think I saw someone. Armin. I think I saw him,” Eren sputtered out. He looked at his hands, wringing them together. His entire being felt jittery and disoriented. “He’s back. I just know it, and I don’t know if I can face him.”

Marco mulled over this, a pensive expression on his face. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Huh?”

“Look at you. You’re nervous and embarrassed by something. Your feet are tapping. You’re wringing your hands and hanging your head low. Are you scared of him? Or are you scared by the idea of him being back in your life?”

The set of Eren’s jaw gave away his sudden irritation at Marco’s questions. “Why would I be scared of him?”

“Think of it this way,” Marco said. “A person you love dearly – romantically or not – leaves you. This person doesn’t tell you where they are, why they left. They didn’t even say goodbye. That’s what happened, right?”

Eren nodded, his eyes dark and downcast.

“Exactly,” the other man explained. “You _are_ scared of the idea of him. You’re scared that because he’s here, he’s going to leave you again. That fear is what’s making you so nervous. You hate feeling vulnerable, and this situation is making you feel just that. Weak. Scared. Defenseless.”

Eren glowered at the floor. Though it was hard to admit, everything Marco said was true.

“How much did you love him?” Marco asked quietly.

“More than nearly everyone,” the green-eyed man replied, his voice soft and grave.

“Ah. I see.” Marco grabbed a pen off his desk and began fiddling with it. He regarded Eren with a melancholy, sympathetic expression. He reached over, patting Eren’s leg. “I’m sorry.”

“So I am,” Eren replied.

They sat in silence for a moment. Eren had not realized that Marco had been staring at him with a sad look on his face.

“I have some advice for you. On what you should do next.”

“What is it, Marco?” Eren said wearily.

Marco gazed at him, his eyes filled with brotherly love. Eren’s pain was weighing on him, too. They shared similar pasts and a childhood filled with escapades. There had to be something there.

“Go to him,” was all Marco said before standing up and leaving the room.

\---

Eren needed to clear his head desperately. So, in true Eren Jaeger fashion, he drove over to the local bar.

No one was there except for a few cars parked in the lot. He pulled up beside a small white Beretta, the one he knew belonged to Petra Ral.

Petra was quite a bit like Marco, though she was more fiery. Her cousin, the aspiring therapist, always regarded her as a kind soul until crossed. Marco liked to joke that even Satan would not get in the way of Petra for the fear of being burned by her.

Anyway, Petra was like the elder sister Eren had lacked as an only child. Sure, there was Mikasa, but she had a rather strange, smothering-mother feeling to her. Petra was sisterly and wise, always considerate of other’s feelings. She was one of the kindest people Eren knew. She was always helpful, sweet, and welcomed anyone with open arms.

The Dusty Rag’s front door was locked, just as Eren expected. But he knew the back one wouldn’t be. It would be completely unlocked, just in case someone was running from another person and needed to hide temporarily. Cue the back door of The Dusty Rag, which would swoop open, saving them from a beating at the hands of another. Levi, the owner of the bar, had come up with the idea; a surprising notion, considering the he was nearly as cold as Mikasa. 

The back door opened with a loud protest, signaling his presence. Gunther, a busboy and dishwasher, simply nodded at him. It was the unspoken code not to question Eren’s presence when he walked in through the back. “She’s in front,” was all the man said, turning back to his dishes.

Eren made his way to the front of the room, careful to avoid Oluo and his sharp tongue. Oluo was a Levi wannabe, but less cool and more utterly obnoxious. He and Petra were at each other’s throats half the time because of this. The other half, they were glowering at each other from across the room.

When he got to the front, he saw a girl with a coppery bob scrubbing the bar’s long table. Petra turned at the sound of Eren’s footfalls and smiled gently. “Well, hey there,” she exclaimed, her eyes bright and wide. “Ain’t seen you in a while. What are you doing here?”

“The same could be said of you. Why are you and the others here so early?”

“It’s Cleaning Day. Or did you forget?” She nudged him gently before going back to scrubbing one particularly nasty stain. “Damn, I hate the obnoxious drunkards. Always spilling shit, and it’s hard to get it off.” She grimaced. “Oh, well. At least I get good pay.”

“Yeah,” Eren replied. “Hey, can I ask you something, Petra?”

She glanced up, interested piqued. “Sure.”

“Okay, so hypothetically, you fell in love with someone. You loved this person more than life itself. But they left. You haven’t seen them in four years. They didn’t try to reach you or anything. Suddenly, fast forward to those four years later, they reappear. What would you do?”

“What do you mean, ‘what would I do’?” Petra asked. “Do you mean, ‘would you reach out to them again or let them be’? Or did you mean, ‘if they reached out to you again, what would you do’?” She gave him a hard look, her lips pursed slightly. “He’s back again, isn’t he?”

“Yes. That’s why I asked.”

“Oh,” she said. “What a prick. Didn’t even say goodbye.” She scrubbed even harder at the same spot, annoyance overflowing from her. 

“But…” Eren said, melancholy filling him to the brim. He could hardly finish a sentence, he was so confused. “He’s back. I can’t just let it go, can I?”

“Well,” Petra said, “you could. But it’s obvious you don’t want to.” She paused, looking down at the table and admiring her handiwork. The stain was finally scrubbed off. “Anyway, have you talked to Marco already?”

“He said I should go to him.”

“In true Marco fashion,” Petra laughed, smiling almost bitterly. “He’s too kind for his own good. I’m just glad he’s got Jean, you know? A tough but good guy to protect ‘im from the douches that would just use him. He’s a good guy.” She blinked. “But that’s beside the point. So he told you to go see Armin again?”

“Yeah.”

“Eren, why do you still love him?”

Petra’s question threw him off. “Because….” He stuttered out. “Because I...because…”

“He hasn’t done much for you. And he isn’t doing much now.” She sighed softly, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Do what’s in your heart. I know you’ll do the right thing.” A sad smile found its way onto her face, dimming her features. “I trust your heart.”

_Too bad that I can’t._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The Dusty Rag got its name from my first solo. It sounded like a good name for a bar.
> 
> \---
> 
> Hey guys! Updates will now be taking place on Saturdays instead of Sundays.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed reading it. Thank you for 11 "kudos" and 100+ views. Your support makes all this happen, and I want to thank you for that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They sat in silence, letting the weight of the situation set in. Two former lovers, broken-hearted and sitting in the dank kitchen of a poor man trying to find his way. It was a strange situation, and seemed like it belonged in a movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm going to be out of town tomorrow so I'm going to go ahead and update now. Enjoy this chapter!

The next morning, Eren woke up with a horrible headache and a sense of impending disaster. It was rainy and cold outside, and he could hear the wind howling. Something wasn’t right. His home was eerily quiet. The fan in his room, which he used for background noise, was turned off. Eren knew it couldn’t have been him who turned it off; he couldn’t sleep at all unless it was on. Then who turned it off?

_It’s probably just dead. It was an old fan, anyway,_ Eren thought, sitting up in the bed. Then he noticed even more things out of place. Though he was more agnostic than anything, Eren always kept a bible by his door, lying beside it on the floor. It had been moved onto the bookshelf on the other side of the door. And speaking of the door – it was shut. Eren never slept with his door closed. The clothes that had been strewn on the floor were folded neatly in a pile by the foot of his bed. The papers on his desk were neatly stacked. Everything was…organized. Neat. It was incredibly unsettling.

_What the fuck?_

Cautiously, Eren got up from the bed, pulled on a shirt, and walked over to the shut door. He took in a deep breath, steeling himself before turning the knob and stepping out.

He nearly screamed when he walked into the kitchen.

Eren had once heard about pulsars in school. They were stars that regularly emitted a pulse that lasted only brief moments. He was sure that the speed of the beats of his heart would give any pulsar a run for its money.

“You – what - _how_ \- “ Eren stared, his jaw dropped in a mix between delight, horror, and the eerie realization that his home had been broken into by his former childhood love.

Armin was standing at the kitchen counter, drinking a cup of coffee. The morning paper was sitting on the table, neatly folded up beside an empty vase. The dishes had been done and put away. The whole kitchen was nearly spotless.

“Good morning,” Armin said softly, as if this was a normal occurrence. As if breaking into a former lover’s home and cleaning for them was completely standard. As if this was nothing new, just a typical morning in a crime-addled town.

Eren pursed his lips, his eyebrows knitting in annoyance. “What the fuck?” he hissed. “What the fuck is this?!” He threw his arms up, feeling years of resentment and bitterness boiling over. “Why are you here?!”

Armin sighed, looking into his cup of coffee. When he looked up again, he was regarding Eren with an expression that was a mix between confused and sad. His eyes seemed to say, _Why aren’t you happy to see me? Isn’t this what you wanted?_

Eren took a step back, feeling disoriented. This _was_ what he wanted. He wanted his best friend, his confidant, his first love back. But was he ready for Armin’s reappearance? Was he stable enough to handle it? His head spun, and he casted his eyes to the ground. “Oh, god,” he stammered. “I—“

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Armin said, taking a sip from his coffee. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, his eyes falling on the scene outside the kitchen window. People were standing in groups across the street, walking and speaking urgently to each other. Armin regarded them with a strange calmness before turning back to Eren. “I like the weather. I think it fits quite well with our current and respective predicaments.”

Eren gaped in shock and melancholy. This was the Armin he knew – but was it, really? The Armin standing in his kitchen was soft-spoken, reserved, and quiet. Not at all like the Armin he used to know: inquisitive, loud, curious. Not at all like the gaunt, somber, solemn shell of a boy he once knew. The shell of a man, really. One that seemed to be bound by the strangest of moral codes. 

Eren breathed in deeply before speaking. “I guess so.”

Armin set his coffee cup down and grimaced. “I was wondering how you can possibly sleep with the door to your room open.”

“Habit, I guess,” Eren said, cautiously moving to sit down at the table. There were scratches and wounds in the table. Battle scars, his father called them. 

_Each one tells a story. Remember that, Eren. Every scar, mental or physical, has its very own history. Never judge anyone by their scars – do you hear me?_

_I hear you loud and clear, Dad,_ Eren thought, pulling a chair out and sitting down. He examined Armin carefully from where he sat. Though Armin was wearing a long sleeved hoodie and jeans, noticeable bruises could be seen on his lower neck and one or two were visible on his wrists. Armin Arlert was no longer a boy, but not quite a man. He was just a person who was visibly broken, beaten, and bruised.

Eren suddenly had the urge to hug him. He moved in his chair to do it, but reconsidered it. Armin wasn’t here to hug him. He was here to patch things up for good, and then run away and leave again. And after that, Eren would never hear from him again. He’d go about his life, saving for college and visiting Marco and Petra every once in a while. When he got older, he’d get nostalgic for the disaster that was his first love, and he’d reminisce about it on the front porch.

Eren wanted so desperately to go back to his old life, even if Armin had only been here a day.

Armin swallowed, hard. He looked at Eren calmly. “Eren, can your face your past?”

What kind of question was that? It seemed awfully random and out of place in the conversation, yet he knew that it couldn’t have been avoided. Eren blinked in confusion for a moment before giving his answer. “I think so,” he said softly, shrugging.

Armin pondered this for a moment, his lips slightly pursed as if it was an unsatisfactory answer. Which Eren had to admit, it was. But it was ten a.m. and his former lover was in his kitchen. There was too much information to process to give a complete answer – who could blame him?

“So, you’re saying that you could look back at everything that happened. Every single thing from four years ago, and not cry or become angry. You could do that.” Armin gave him a scrutinizing look before glancing out the window again. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Not really.”

Armin smiled, a bitter, cold smile laced with despair. Eren felt a tug in his heart. Though the years had passed, they still shared a deep connection. Even if that connection was sorrow and grief mixed with bitterness that they’d let their love slip away.

“Just like the Eren I used to know,” Armin murmured. “I remember trying to tutor you in math and science. I’d teach you for an hour, and you know what you’d say at the end when I asked if you understood?” The blond laughed a little, shaking his head. “You’d say, ‘Not really,” and I would sigh heavily and hit you on the back of the head gently. I miss that.”

Eren didn’t answer.

They sat in silence, letting the weight of the situation set in. Two former lovers, broken-hearted and sitting in the dank kitchen of a poor man trying to find his way. It was a strange situation, and seemed like it belonged in a movie.

But this was reality. And often times, reality was stranger than fiction.

“I always loved you,” Eren said suddenly. He gave Armin a despairing, desperate look. _Please, please, just say you love me, too. Tell me you’re going to stay here and be with me forever. So we can go back to how it used to be._

Armin turned away, a tear trickling down his face.

_Please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Eren. Maybe he should have gotten a lock.
> 
> \---
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I'll see you back here next Saturday with the next chapter! C:


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was almost sad how a coma seemed more appealing than his waking life.

Armin left.

Eren couldn’t blame him, but he still felt resentment. Was that all he had wanted of him? To see if he could face his feelings about the past they shared? If that was his sole purpose in reappearing, it seemed like a wasted opportunity to actually fix things.

Eren stared at the kitchen table for a long time. Battle scars, his father had said. A man covered in them who also happened to have disappeared eight years ago. A man so mysterious that Eren wasn’t sure that even Carla didn’t completely know him. 

But then again, who had? Grisha Jaeger kept to himself. He disliked noise and crowds and obnoxious groups of kids playing in the street. He rarely spoke to people outside the family and never said more than a few words to Mikasa, Marco, Petra, and Armin. He was an introverted, quiet man.

No…it wasn’t that he was truly introverted. He seemed to only _want_ the company of his family. It was as if no one else met his standards besides Carla and Eren, besides possibly Mikasa, since she spent so much time over in their childhood. No, it wasn’t that his father was introverted; it was that he only wanted his family, and no one else who could shove in and take his time with them away.

So why had he left?

Eren sighed and shut his eyes, pressing his palm to his temple. So many questions had gone unanswered. Why had his father left? Why did Armin leave? Why did his mother have to die?

He opened his eyes, feeling them drooping again like weights. Eren wanted to sleep for twenty years, maybe longer. Just long enough so that he could wake up and not have to deal with his life at the moment. 

Eren laughed resentfully. It was almost sad how a coma seemed more appealing than his waking life. 

\---  
The phone rang at noon.

“Hello?” Eren answered, wondering who would be calling him. They had no caller ID, but they had never needed it. Almost no one called their home.

“Hey, Eren,” a familiar voice said on the other side. Eren sighed with relief; it was Petra. Why hadn’t he thought it was her?

“Oh, hey, Petra. Sorry for not realizing it was you. What’s up?”

“Not much. That douche canoe was just here.” 

‘Douche canoe’. Leave it to Petra.

“What did he do that was so worthy of a call?” Eren almost laughed a little, in spite of the situation and the despair in the bottom of his heart.

“He looked awfully miserable. He ordered some fries and then picked at ‘em. But let me tell you something: he looked pretty skittish when some chick and her two boyfriends or whatever walked in. Like, he tried to hide from them. I guess they didn’t notice him or something, because they made no move to go near him. But he got out of there really quick once they arrived.”

Eren mulled over this information. “Maybe he was just intimidated by them.”

“Well, there’s something fishy about this situation.” Petra paused and seemed to cover the phone, presumably to yell at Oluo. He could hear muffled, angry voices. A huffing breath was heard before Petra returned to the line. “I’ve got to go. Be careful of that Arlert kid. He might be into some deep shit.”

“Wait, what did they look like –“  
“Sorry, Eren, but I really have to go. I’ll tell you later, okay?” 

“Oh, okay. Bye,” he said, but there was no one on the line.

\---

Rain came down like tears that afternoon around two. It was gloomy, bleak, and matched Eren’s mood perfectly. The sky was gray streaked with charcoal and snowy white. The droplets of rain were huge, like a giant was weeping.

Was it weeping for Eren and Armin?

Eren sat in a small coffee shop by Reiss Park. He stared into his hot chocolate with a look so intense it might have burned right through the liquid and through the table. He was completely lost in thought. Eren was thinking about the day he and Armin confessed to each other.

It had been a stormy Tuesday afternoon in the June after eighth grade. They would be freshman in August, but the troubles involved with high school seemed far away. That day was just two best friends, sitting in Eren’s backyard under the tin overhead, shooting the breeze.

The thunder had left to go and terrorize another town; the only sound besides their chatter was the soft pitter-patter of rain as it fell beyond their overhead shield. There was no wind, only the musty smell of the earth that comes with rain. 

“See any cute girls when you went to Trost yesterday?” Armin asked, referring to the trip Eren and his mother had taken to the larger city to buy new clothes. Carla had gotten a huge bonus at work, and Eren needed new shorts, jeans, and shirts.

“Nah. At least, not any worth my time. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering. I saw you looking at some girls earlier in the week when our church group went, that’s all.” Armin looked away, a slight blush on his face.

“Armin, you flirt! Are you thinking of someone in particular?” Eren waggled his eyebrows in the way that drove Armin mad. 

Truth be told, Eren was also thinking of someone. Since seventh grade, Eren had known he wasn’t completely straight. Or maybe, not straight at all. It didn’t matter to him or his mother. He had been confused at first and asked his mother about it, hoping she’d shed some light on it. She’d just smiled and said, “Love whoever you want.” And Eren had taken that advice to heart ever since.

On this particular Tuesday, Eren did love whoever he wanted. That person was sitting beside him, looking into the rain with a dumb blush on his face.

“Yeah,” was the only reply he got from the blond at first. After a moment of silence, Armin finally spoke again. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure,” Eren said. “Go right ahead.” He smiled at Armin, a reassuring, naïve smile.

“I don’t like girls. As in, I don’t think I’m straight.”

“Join the club,” Eren replied. He paused for a moment. “At least, I don’t think I like girls. Just not very much, anyway. I mean, they’re okay, but I’m not really into them very much.” He had to stop himself at that moment. He was rambling again.

“Really?” Armin’s face lit up. 

“Yeah.”

 

Armin breathed out, a heavy sigh of relief. He was still blushing though, and his small fingers were trembling, like they always did when they were nervous.

“Can I tell you something else?”

Eren nodded.

“I think that instead of girls, I like you.”

It was Eren’s turn to blush now. He looked away, feeling his neck grown warm. “R-really…?” he choked out, a bit shocked.

Armin’s hand found his, and the blond leaned in a little. Scratch that: a lot. His lips were just inches from Eren’s. “Why would I say it if it wasn’t true?”

And then, Armin kissed him. Eren was shocked; Armin was not known for being bold or brave, but in that moment, he had been.

Everything was spinning. Armin was leaning into his body. The blonde’s lips were soft and full. Eren cringed, recalling how he chewed his lips in moments of anxiety. They were probably rough. But Eren pushed these thoughts to the side. Instead, he reached out to push Armin’s hair behind his ear, cupping his face with his free hand. Everything was sweetly dizzying, and Eren gladly let himself slip out of control.

Armin pulled away after a moment, leaning his forehead against Eren’s. “Thank you.”

Thank him? For what? Eren didn’t know what he meant, but he just smiled and nodded, pulling Armin into his loving embrace. He breathed out into the blonde’s soft, long hair. 

And on that gloomy, rainy Tuesday afternoon, everything was perfect for just one moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for 20 kudos and nearly 300 views! It means so much to me.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll see you here next Saturday!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That, of course, was a fantasy that lived in the mind of naïve young boy who fell for his best friend.

Armin was back in the kitchen when Eren arrived home. He was sitting at the table, tracing the scars in it with one hand. The other was on a mug, presumably filled with coffee. Eren came and sat down across from him. Rain was beating down on the roof like a drum. 

They were silent. Eren began to fidget in his seat, wringing his hands and looking around nervously. It all seemed so serene, just two boys in a kitchen.

Except they weren’t boys anymore, but they weren’t quite men. They were haggard, hollow spirits, wandering wherever they were needed. This existence was pathetic and lonely and sad, but they were just barely human anyway. Did it really matter to them anymore? Even in the happiest of situations, Eren doubted that either of them would ever be free.

He breathed out heavily. Armin still didn’t say anything. “Why are you here?” Eren asked softly, reaching out for the blonde’s hand.

He took Armin’s small, fragile hand in his. The other boy didn’t protest or say a single thing.

“Please,” Eren pleaded, “just say something. Talk to me.” He looked away, hating how small and weak he sounded. 

Armin finally looked up at him. His eyes, which used to be so full of life and love, were dead and dull. He regarded Eren with a sad expression. The brunette himself wanted to cry at that moment. Everything he wanted was sitting right in front of him, but it still felt like miles and miles of misery separated them. 

“Oh, Eren,” Armin whispered, a bitter smile on his face as a tear rolled down his cheek. “I’m so lonely.”

Eren squeezed the blonde’s hand, trying to contain his own sadness. Outside, the rain fell as if all the angels above were weeping. Eren found that he wanted to cry with them. He breathed in, stifling his tears. He couldn’t cry. Not here, not now.

“Why did you leave me?” Eren asked, staring at the table.

Armin didn’t answer him, instead staring off into the corner. Even with the life sucked out of him, he was still strangely beautiful. There was a haunting beauty to the empty figure sitting in front of him. The bruise on his neck was fading, a lot like the boy it was on.

Eren looked away. Asking about Armin’s motives was useless.

“Petra called,” Eren said.

Armin mulled over this for a moment. “She works at the bar, right? I think I saw her. Her worries have aged her, but she’s still a very pretty girl.” He chuckled. “Still not getting along with Oluo, though.”

“Yeah,” the brunette mumbled. “She said something about some people who walked in and scared you off. Or something like that.”

Armin instantly stiffened, staring at the table with a horrified expression. “S-she… she told you that?” he stammered, gulping. He glanced up at Eren. “She saw them..? Oh god. This can’t be happening,” Armin whispered.

“What’s the matter? Who were those people?”

“It…it doesn’t matter, okay?” Armin hissed, his voice raising. He stood up from the table, inspecting the room. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be back later.”

“Wait!” Eren shouted, jumping up from the table. “I’ll go with you. We can sort this out—“

“ _No_!” Armin screeched, the anger in his voice making Eren shrink back. He dropped his voice, his features softening suddenly. He regarded Eren with a gentle, loving look. Slowly, he made his way over to the brunette. 

Armin wrapped his arms around Eren’s neck and pressed his lips against his ear. “I’m sorry. I’ve just got to go take care of something. It’ll only take me an hour – promise.”

“Okay,” Eren said quietly, looking away. He felt like he’d been slapped.

Would it have hurt less if he’d actually been slapped?

\---

The afternoon drug on. By seven, Eren had no more tears to shed. By nine, he was weary of life. By eleven, all he wanted was for Armin to return to him. He wanted the life before his lover’s disappearance back. He wanted Armin.

_Give up,_ Eren thought. _He’s not coming back._ He fell into his bed an fell into a fitful sleep before waking up feeling cold and miserable. His eyes opened and glared at the ceiling with a groggy and irritated expression. His left arm was numb, due to the fact that he’d slept on it like a pillow. After a few moments, Eren was cognizant again. He sighed heavily, wishing he could fall back to sleep.

Eren sat up in bed and tossed a glance at his clock. It was 1:14 a.m. 

He couldn’t decide if it was too early or too late to be missing Armin.

Either way, Eren was completely drained of energy. He lay back in the bed and exhaled loudly and slowly, feeling the tears well up again. His lungs were heaving and he could hear the beat of his heart, but there was no feeling in his chest or anywhere else. There was just numbness.

After Armin’s disappearance and the death of Carla, Eren had learned to shut himself off inside. He could sit and hold a conversation, but he didn’t let that person get close. He held nearly everyone at an arm’s length and refused to get attached. Eren began to cut off people: Connie, Sasha, Reiner, Bertolt, Annie, Thomas, Mina. The list went on and on. He let very few people stay inside his fortress of emotionlessness. His barricade couldn’t fool people like Mikasa, Marco, and Petra. Therefore, Eren let them take shelter within his walls, much like he hid inside of theirs.

Numbness, Eren had found, was his best chance at surviving on his own.

Armin’s reappearance was ruining Eren’s carefully constructed system of walls, the walls that kept people out. Eren felt threatened. Armin wanted inside his walls, standing outside like the Trojan horse. There was nothing more frightening than the prospect of letting someone you used to love – still love, really – inside. After all the hurt that took up so much room within Eren’s fortress, was there room for Armin?

Maybe, just maybe, there was a nook or cranny with the name _Armin Arlert_ written on it.

Eren was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear that very person enter the room. Armin climbed into the bed beside him and poked Eren’s side. “You’re awake, right?”

“Yeah,” Eren mumbled groggily. “Why are you late?”

“She kept me later than usual.”

Eren opened his mouth to ask, but shut it just as quickly. He’d just get an indirect, vague answer; he was foolish to even consider asking it. “Oh,” he said quietly.

They stared at each other in the still darkness for a moment before Armin moved a little closer and whispered, “I’m sorry, Eren.” He paused, waiting for a response. When Eren didn’t answer, he went on. “I was sorry on the day I left, and the days after that. I was sorry this morning, sorry this afternoon, sorry now. Tomorrow, I’ll still be sorry. All the days of my life, I will regret leaving you.”

Eren looked away, a bitterness rising in his throat. “Okay.”

Armin sounded hurt. “Don’t just say ‘okay’ to me,” he pleaded, his voice soft. “I mean it. I..I…”

“I know what you meant,” Eren said. “I understand. I’m just tired, okay?”

He could hear Armin huff at his answer. “Just tired,” the blond repeated slowly.

“Yes,” Eren replied, hearing the irritation creeping into his voice. “I just need some sleep. You need some, too.”

“But – “

“Go to sleep, Armin.”

The sheets rustled as Armin climbed under the covers, his back turned away from Eren. The brunette sighed heavily, shaking his head. In the days following Armin’s disappearance, Eren had fantasized about his return. In his head, it was always a dramatic reunion; there were tears, kisses, and _I love you_ s. They were always happy to see each other. That, of course, was a fantasy that lived in the mind of naïve young boy who fell for his best friend. Eren felt sick. He couldn’t believe he’d ever been so guileless.

But at the same time, he wished he was still that innocent, childlike 14-year-old who loved Armin more than anyone. He missed the days of his youth. Four years ago, he was a sweet, naïve boy. Now, he was just hollow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thank you very much for 400+ views and 31 kudos(es?)! I appreciate it so, so much.
> 
> I'll see you back here next Saturday - the drama continues! C;


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When I was 14, I was sitting at your kitchen table early in the morning. I’d come in at three a.m., broken, bloody, and beaten. I was crying when your mother opened the door for me and let me sleep on your couch. I remember you coming to sit with me. Do you remember that, Eren?”

“Eren, wake up.”

“No,” Eren mumbled into the mattress, yawning. “I don’t want to.”

“You sound like you’re ten,” Armin chuckled. “Now get up. I have something to show you.”

Eren turned away from the blonde’s voice and pulled the covers up to his chin. “I said no. It’s too early.” He screwed his eyes shut, ignoring Armin’s prodding finger at his side.

“I’ll give you a kiss if you get up.”

Eren mulled over this offer. “Fine.” He sat up, reaching for his T-Shirt that he’d left on the dresser. It was too hot to sleep with a shirt on during Shinganshina’s summer, so he often slept in just a pair of sweat pants or his boxers. He pulled the shirt on over his head and stood up, feeling Armin’s arm slip around his waist. 

“This way,” the shorter man said. “Close your eyes.”

_Gladly,_ Eren thought, letting his eyelids droop. Armin led him through the house, pulling him close so he wouldn’t ram into corners. 

Suddenly, a rush of cold air hit Eren and he instantly opened his eyes. The front door of his home was now open. He breathed in deeply, feeling a bit shocked. He glared at Armin. “It’s too cold.”

Armin shook his head, reaching for a quilt that had been left on the couch. He wrapped it around Eren’s left shoulder and his own right shoulder. Gently, he led the brunette outside. They sat down on the porch, Eren’s toes curling when they felt the cold concrete beneath them. He shivered. Armin scooted closer to him, sighing softly. 

“Why are we out here?” Eren asked, giving Armin a questioning look.

Armin looked down for a moment before speaking. “When I was 14, I was sitting at your kitchen table early in the morning. I’d come in at three a.m., broken, bloody, and beaten. I was crying when your mother opened the door for me and let me sleep on your couch. I remember you coming to sit with me. Do you remember that, Eren?”

Eren looked away. For the life of him, he had no memory of that happening.

Armin continued to talk. “Anyway, you woke me up around six and wrapped a quilt around my shoulders. You led me outside, and we watched the sunrise together.” He paused to look down at his hands, smiling gently. “I can still recall that wonderful feeling, even after four years. When I was lonely, sad, and cold, I remembered that morning. It made me feel happy, safe, and secure. It made me realize I had to come back.”

“So that’s why.”

“That’s one reason,” the blond said. “To be completely honest, I just had this gigantic hole in my heart that could only be filled with a bumbling dork named Eren.”

Eren chuckled a little, feeling as if he were 14 again. It was so nice to sit on the porch with his former lover.

But that was where things began to get muddy. He’d always considered Armin an ex after he left. Maybe Eren had done that to protect himself. Maybe it had been so he wouldn’t hold onto the hope that Armin would return. Except he _had_ come back. And now, everything Eren had set up perfectly in his head was turned onto its side. Armin’s place in his world was a blurry mess. Eren couldn’t decide if Armin was still his lover or if they had left that all behind.

But asking about that could jeopardize Armin staying, and Eren wanted him to stay this time. He’d let the blond slip away once, and he couldn’t take it if he left again. Eren had been a complete and total wreck when Armin had left the first time. He wasn’t about to let him leave again.

“Promise me something,” Eren said without realizing it. His mind and lips were no longer connected, it seemed. 

“What?” Armin asked, leaning in closer.

He began to talk, his mouth blabbering away while his mind sat on the sidelines, unable to do anything about the situation. “Promise me that if you leave again, you’ll tell me where you are. And you’ll come back to me again.” Eren felt a lump rising in his throat. “Promise that you won’t leave me forever again. I think we both know that neither of us could do that again.” He shuddered, biting his lip, trying to keep the tears from coming. “Promise me that.”

Armin looked down at his feet. It seemed as if four years of guilt was washing over him. He seemed smaller than before when he looked back up at Eren. “I promise that I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Eren replied. Though Armin hadn’t promised to any of what he’d said, the blond had said that he would try. And that was good enough for Eren.

“Let’s go inside now,” Armin urged. “I was planning to take you to breakfast.”

\---

Though the morning had started off beautiful, it soon turned windy and rainy. Eren pulled his raincoat on over his shoulders and zipped it up before realizing that Armin lacked one. He went off into his closet, pulling out an old raincoat from two years prior. He tossed it to the blond, who put it on without arguing. They slipped into their shoes and headed to the Blouses’ restaurant in the square surrounding Reiss Park. 

When they arrived, they found that it was packed with an hour wait. Armin threw his head against the seat of Eren’s car and groaned. “Fuck,” he muttered. “I had it all planned out. Ugh.”

“There’s still the coffee shop,” Eren said hopefully. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

After a few more moments of persuading, Armin finally relented and they left for the coffee shop. When they arrived, they found Marco working as sole barista. Jean was standing on the other side of the counter in baggy jeans and a black hoodie. He was pointing at various kitchen utensils, to which Marco would sigh in an exasperated manner. Even so, he was still blushing a little, and on occasion he’d reach over the counter and touch Jean’s hand. Armin and Eren stood in the door awkwardly, looking at each other questioningly.

Marco seemed to realize that they were there and turned around, his face bright red. “O-oh. Hey, guys. Sorry about that.” He yanked his hand away from Jean, who pouted. “Jean, behave. I have customers.”

“’Jean, behave,’” the man in the hoodie repeated, rolling his eyes jokingly. However, he did as Marco wanted and sat at a nearby booth.

Other than Jean and Marco, Eren and Armin were the only people in the establishment. The loudspeaker was playing some sad acoustic song, but even its volume couldn’t fill the coffee shop with noise. It seemed so eerily quiet.

“I’ll tell you guys what,” Marco said. “I’ll make your coffee, then come out here so we can sit and talk. I’m the only one working, ‘cause it’s a weekday. It’ll be fine.”

“Sounds good,” Armin responded. “I’ll have a hazelnut decaf.”

\---

Once the coffee was made, Marco kept true to his word – as always, in true Marco fashion – and came to sit with them. Jean took the window seat, staring out at the street absently. His face was blank and bored, and yet it seemed to hide a deep intelligence. Eren glanced at Jean once more. He was sure that the man with the long face knew more than he put off.

“So, Armin,” Marco began, “how have you been?”

“Better now that I’m back.”

Marco nodded, mulling over this for a moment. “That’s good to hear. It’s been such a long time since I saw you last. I was worried about you.”

“I was worried about me, too,” Armin replied candidly. He fiddled with his napkin and sighed softly. “I’m glad to be back. I forgot how much I missed Shinganshina.”

“Then you were really in a shit hole before returning, huh?” Jean asked, piping in. He looked at Armin with a strange suspicion. “Anyone who leaves here never talks fondly of it, wherever place they go. Even in Trost, people who’ve lived in Shinganshina complain about it. And we all know how shitty Trost is.” He glanced out the window before his gaze flicked back to Armin. “Where’d you even go that would make Shinganshina look halfway appealing?”

“Stohess,” Armin answered, looking down at the table.

“You went to _Stohess_?” Jean gaped, his amber eyes wide. “That’s pretty close to the capital from what I hear. Why’d you go there?”

“A job,” the blond replied.

“What kind of job?” Jean pressed before Marco shushed him.

“Stop asking so many questions,” Marco scolded gently. “We’re just visiting with him, not conducting an interrogation. Leave your job at the station, Jean.”

“Fine,” the other man snorted, but there was a trace of a smile on his lips.

Eren shifted in his seat, glancing at the door. A young man was approaching the door with his laptop case in hand. Marco got up to serve him. “I’ve gotta run, okay?” the freckled man said. “It was nice seeing you, Armin. Come back again some time.”

Marco raced over to the cash register and smoothed his hair back. “Hi, how can I help you?”

\---

Armin and Eren left soon after that. The rain had slowed down to a slow, soft mist as they made their way to the park. It hadn’t been Eren’s idea to go to Reiss Park; it was Armin who insisted they had to go. “I haven’t been there in years. I want to see it again.”

Eren had given in, so they set out for it. Once they arrived, Armin was like a kid in a candy store. His features were animated by pure joy. It seemed as though he were glowing. Armin hadn’t looked like that since he’d returned to Shinganshina. 

Armin turned to Eren, blushing slightly. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’m just so damn happy right now.”

Eren smiled at him. It was so like Armin to feel the need to apologize for being joyful. “It’s fine,” Eren replied. “Happiness looks good on you. I’ve missed seeing you smile.” He hadn’t even realized that he’d stepped forward a bit.

Armin was blushing now, color pooling into his cheeks. “I just realized something,” he said.

“What?”

“This morning, I told you that I’d give you a kiss if you woke up,” Armin explained. “I can’t go back on my promise.”

The blond put his hand on Eren’s cheek, the other around his neck. He pulled the brunette closer and smiled a little. Gently, he pressed his lips to Eren’s.

The world began to spin when their lips touched. It felt so foreign at first; Eren hadn’t been kissed in years. His arms hung stupidly at his sides. He moved them around Armin’s waist, pulling him in closer. One hand moved up to brush hair out of the blond’s face. Armin sighed contentedly into the kiss. 

Eren felt a bit dizzy. His head was full of nothing but light and the feeling of Armin’s lips and skin and scent. He smelled sweet and tasted better. Eren felt like he was filled to the brim with love. It was pouring out from him. He hadn’t felt that happy in years.

Armin pulled away briefly. “Oh, Eren,” he whispered. “I’ve missed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for 500+ views and 40+ kudos, guys!!
> 
> Be sure to check out the mix for the story. Listen [here](http://8tracks.com/stratusdreams/swim-until-you-re-free)!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything was perfect until Jean showed up.

Everything was perfect until Jean showed up.

It was two in the afternoon, one week after Armin and Eren’s kiss. Armin was off at the library, checking out books full of poetry by Alfred Lord Tennyson. Eren was sitting at home in his comfy recliner, watching the news channel. He sighed, glancing at the clock. It’d been only thirty minutes and Eren was already wishing that the blond was here. It was then it hit Eren: he was absolutely, hopelessly, desperately, completely in love.

As he was pondering this, he heard a knock on the door. “Coming!” he yelled, getting up and walking slowly towards the door. He opened it quickly. _Oh,_ he thought, trying not to let his face betray his disappointment. It was Jean.

“Hey,” Eren said, stepping aside. “Come on in." 

\--- 

They sat at the kitchen table, Jean aimlessly gnawing at a SKOR bar and Eren staring at the manila folder Jean had sitting in front of him. 

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” Jean said. 

“Yeah." 

“Well, I thought Armin’s alibi was sketchy to say the least. It raised my suspicions more than a little when he mentioned Stohess.” 

“Why?” Eren asked. “It’s not _that_ sketchy, is it?” He looked at the long-faced man curiously, his eyes wide. 

Jean raised an eyebrow. “Listen,” he began, “I’m a cop, even if I’ve only been on the squad a short time. I know what I’m talking about when I say this. Besides, even before I became clean and started working for the law, I’ve been everywhere in this godforsaken country. And I’ll tell you one thing: Stohess ain’t known for its beautiful architecture or whatever they advertise it as having.” 

Eren raised an eyebrow. “Huh?” 

Jean sighed heavily, and he began to speak as if he were educating a child. “Let’s put it simply: Stohess has a sky-high crime rate, nearly as bad as Shinganshina.” 

“What are you trying to say?" 

“Nothing, really,” the policeman replied, reaching up to muss up his hair. “Just thought you should know.” 

Eren exhaled heavily. “Then why’d you even come here in the first place? If there wasn’t a point, why’d you tell me all of that?” He glared at Jean with an icy stare. He looked away, trying to get his rage under control. The portrait of Carla on the wall was the only thing keeping Eren from flying off the handle. It sounded strange, but having the picture of his mother helped Eren keep his temper down when dealing with people like Jean. 

Jean sighed, glancing behind him before turning to Eren again. When he turned back to the green-eyed man, Jean wore a soft expression full of remorse. “Because I see a lot of me in you. We’ve both got relatively similar personalities. But the difference between me and you is that you’ve done so much better in life.” 

Eren opened his mouth, then shut it quickly. How had _he_ done “better in life” when Jean was the one with an important, steady job? He looked at the other man with a curious expression. “What do you mean, Jean? I’m confused.” 

“You didn’t choose to do drugs, did you?” 

Eren’s eyes widened. “Y-you…you _what_? How did you get into the force? What – why would you do that?” 

“I know, I know. I was such a fucking idiot, though. Please, forgive my still-present idiocy, because it never truly left.” Jean paused for a moment. “I got clean, though. I’ve been clean for a year,” he said, smiling a little. “Marco convinced me to quit, you see? Told me I was ruining my body. And my mind, too. I think my mind had it quite a bit worse.” 

“What drugs did you…take..?” Eren said carefully, eyeing the other man. 

“Ecstasy,” he replied nonchalantly. “God, that was terrible. Don’t even know why I started doing that shit. The pills I got from Annie tasted like shit, and the side effects were horrid. I started suffering from insomnia, panic attacks, paranoid delusions – you name it, I had it. Marco told me to stop, that I was wasting my life and money. And I decided to get clean for him. Because one day, when I’m rich enough, I’m getting him a ring.” He stopped, looking down at the table with a wistful smile. “I hope I can.” 

“That’s good,” Eren said. “But, hey, who’s Annie?" 

Jean snapped out of whatever trance he was under and regarded Eren with a blank expression. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of her, considering your neighborhood." 

“Just tell me who she is.” 

"Drug dealer. Pretty good one at that. Hasn’t been caught yet, but the police are trying to find her. They think she hops between cities, so they’ve alerted authorities in Hermiha, Karanese, and Trost, as well as other places. I hope they catch her, though. I’d sit front-row at her trial.” 

“Is she that bad of a person?" 

“Oh, yeah. She’s not the nicest of people in the first place, but she gets even meaner once you get to know her. Annie’s okay - nah, scratch that. For the most part, she only acts cold and distant, but she has some seriously bad moments.” 

“Does she operate in this neighborhood?” 

“Probably.” 

“Oh,” Eren said. Now it was his turn to look at the table. “Sorry for asking so many questions. I probably sound really stupid to you.” 

“Nah,” Jean shrugged. “It’s fine. I asked a lot of questions, too. You can always ask me if you have more. If I’m not around, Marco can help you. Petra, his cousin – you know her, right? – can answer some things. In fact, most people at the Dusty Rag can answer questions on Shinganshina’s less desirable residents. The person there that can help you most is probably Levi Ackerman. He used to live in Stohess. But he warned; he’s kind of snobby and rude. Really rude.” 

“Oh.” 

Jean chuckled, standing up. “But if you get past his freakish sense of humor and rotten attitude, he’s a really smart guy. Who knows, Hange or Erwin might be able to help you with Levi.” 

He took one last look at Eren before walking towards the door. “Take care of yourself, okay, kid?” 

Eren jumped up suddenly remembering the manila folder Jean had brought with him. “Wait, Jean! Your folder!” he shouted. But Jean was already out the door. 

Jean’s visit had given Eren more questions than answers. He glanced at the manila folder in his hands, breathing in. Did he dare look inside? 

_No,_ he thought. _Not yet…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! It's still Saturday somewhere, right?
> 
> \---
> 
> Thank you for nearly 50 kudos and 600+ views!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he was younger, Eren had been belligerent and angry. He was always getting into fights, mostly from stepping in to help Armin. The other part of the time, he picked quite a few. Last week’s visit with Jean had proved that that belligerence had never left Eren. He was still as angry as ever, but he wasn’t only hurting others. He was also hurting himself.

Three days had passed since Jean’s visit. Eren had tried to keep things as casual as possible. He hid the manila folder underneath his bed and hadn’t opened it at all. He was too scared to see what was inside of it. Jean had given no clues as to what it held, but that made Eren even warier of it. Why had Jean given it to him? If he’d needed it back, he would have returned to retrieve it, right?

Eren shook his head, trying to clear it but failing miserably. Though things were looking up for him, there were still plenty of blurry images in Eren’s life. Like his and Armin’s relationship. 

Sure, they’d kissed and shared a few tender moments. But that did not warrant them getting back together. Other people did that kind of stuff and never had a relationship with each other. Besides, there were too many things that needed to be fixed before a relationship could be established again. At least, that’s what Eren kept telling himself. Maybe he was scared of commitment or giving his heart to the very person who broke it. Or maybe he was scared of the past, and that was the real reason his system of walls was still up.

\---

Eren returned home late one evening. He’d had a hard shift at work and wanted to come home and relax. As soon as he walked in the door, however, he knew it was going to be a long, long night.

A single candle sat in the middle of the scuffed-up dinner table. Armin was setting things up on its surface, straightening utensils and fixing the napkins. He glanced up when Eren entered and smiled. “Hey,” he said. “It’s good to see you. I made dinner.”

“I see,” Eren answered warily. This was not going to end well; he could already feel it. However, Armin looked hurt at the “I see” comment. Attempting to soften his earlier statement, he added, “The table looks really nice and the food smells good.”

“Really?” Armin chirped, face brightening. “It’s my grandfather’s recipe for meat sauce. I made it for the spaghetti.”

Spaghetti with meat sauce. Good lord.

“Yeah.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for? C’mon and sit down.”

Eren did as he was told and took a seat across from Armin. He looked down at the meal. It _did_ look pretty good. But that didn’t throw away the fact that this night was going down a dangerous path and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it. Eren swallowed and picked up his fork, then began to cut up the spaghetti.

“So you’re probably wondering why I did all this,” Armin said. 

_So it begins,_ Eren thought. He picked up some spaghetti on his fork and stuck it in his mouth, chewing it before he spoke. “I –“ 

He stopped. _The folder. My god, what if he found the folder?_ Eren breathed in heavily, steadying himself. “I was wondering why you went to all this trouble for me,” he said, attempting to retrace his steps.

Armin smiled bitterly and swirled the pasta around on his fork. “You aren’t really thinking that, are you?” he asked. “Well, anyways, I put this together because there’s something we need to discuss. You know what it is?”

“No,” Eren said, feeling a panicky feeling rising in his chest. He swallowed. This was turning out much worse than he’d anticipated.

“It’s about us,” the blond replied. “What’s our relationship? It needs to be defined better, for both our sakes. Because without that definition, we’ll both be living in different delusions. That wouldn’t be good for either of us. And in the end, our relationship will be even more torn up than it was before.”

They sat in silence for a moment, reflecting on this. Armin sniffled. “Do we even have one?”

“We did,” Eren replied solemnly. 

Armin looked down. “I really fucked up, huh? I’ve even managed to drive you away. How horrible. I’ve shoved the one I loved so far away that even though he’s sitting in front of me, I can tell he’s miles upon miles away.”

“That’s not true,” Eren choked out. “I’m right here, Armin. I always was.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you leave me?” Eren sobbed, unable to choke down his sadness and loneliness any longer. “Why did you have to go? God damn it, I was so lost and broken without you!” He paused, wiping his eyes with his sleeve before continuing. “I’d just lost my mom and the only person I truly ever fell in love with left me. Why?”

Armin looked away, unable to face the brunette sobbing in front of his plate of spaghetti. “I left to protect you,” he said quietly.

“’Protect’ me? I – I…” Eren stammered out. “I can save myself. But look at you. You’ve been so skittish lately, bouncing from one feeling to the next. You’re more fragile than I’ve ever seen you. I think your job is done, Armin. Just let me protect _you_.”

“I don’t need protecting,” Armin snarled. He stood up from the table. “You just don’t understand. Everything I’ve done for the past four years – I’ve done it all for you. No one _but_ you.” His voice was filled with pain, anger, sadness. Armin’s eyes burned with a fiery passion. “Why can’t you see that? Why do you have to hurt me by not listening?”

“I do listen,” Eren whispered.

“Evidently,” Armin snapped. “I try and try so damn hard to keep you out of the horrible shit out there. But you won’t _listen_ when I say I’m trying to protect you. That’s all I’m trying to do. Please, please accept it.” His voice dropped to a low whisper. “You always protected me from the harsh world when we were fourteen. This time, let me save you.”

Eren stared at the table, breathing in deeply. “Okay,” he said. 

Armin wiped a tear away from his eye and exhaled slowly. He walked over to Eren, who stood up. The blond took Eren in his arms and pressed his face into the other’s neck. His tears were warm, his breathing ragged but quiet. Eren swallowed, patting the blond’s back slowly. “It’s okay, Armin,” he said, trying to be reassuring. But even he couldn’t quite believe that. What Armin had said was jarring. 

_Let me protect you._

Eren looked away, his thoughts racing. Armin was so meek, so fragile. He couldn’t even save himself – how the hell did he intend to save Eren?

Then again, Eren wasn’t too strong himself. Emotionally, he was extremely weak. He broke down and snapped and screamed at the tiniest provocation. He could switch and swing from mood to mood. When he got angry, it affected everything. The mood would last for days and ruin everything. Even worse was when misery struck; a crestfallen Eren couldn’t be bothered with any aspect of life. He was practically lifeless when he became dejected. Eren had been that way for four years: sad, lonely, cold, and trapped within his own head. His mind had practically became his cage, and it was all because he was weak.

Weak. Miserable. Cold. Distant.

Eren swallowed. That was truly the only way to describe him. He’d shoved everyone out (or tried; some, like Marco, Petra, and Mikasa, were not so easily turned away) and made no move to amen those ties. To him, everyone was a person who could potentially shatter his fragile state of mind.

When he was younger, Eren had been belligerent and angry. He was always getting into fights, mostly from stepping in to help Armin. The other part of the time, he picked quite a few. Last week’s visit with Jean had proved that that belligerence had never left Eren. He was still as angry as ever, but he wasn’t only hurting others. He was also hurting himself.

_Oh,_ Eren thought. He glanced down at Armin and sighed.

Armin was strong, so much stronger than Eren was and could ever hope to be. His face was aged with his suffering. Though he didn’t know what, Eren knew he’d seen and been through some things. Horrid, terrifying things. But he’d pulled through it and returned to Eren, a person who couldn’t do much more than hurt him.

It was then that Eren finally realized it: he was, in all honesty, weak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for 700 views and 56 kudos!!
> 
> See you next Saturday!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I remember when you said you wanted to see Reiss Park after a snowstorm. Today, we had one. I know that you rarely go here – and it’s always changing, so you never know what it looks like.”

_Clink. Clink._

The rocks ricocheted off the window and fell into the snow with an unsatisfying _thump_. A fourteen-year-old Eren wrinkled his nose. Ten minutes of rock throwing and Armin still hadn’t arrived at his window. He moved his fingers around, shaking them vigorously. Shinganshina’s winters were colder than anywhere else and could give a volcano frost bite. Eren reached up and touched his nose, checking to make sure it was still there. He sighed with relief before bending down and picking up one of the rocks. He aimed straight for the center of the window and tossed it.

The window opened almost instantly. “Damn it, I’m coming!” Armin snapped. His face was pale and soft-looking in the satin moonlight. His eyes were dark like the sky overhead. The blond clucked his tongue irritably. “My grandfather almost woke up – he’s on the couch, and you know how close that is to my window.” He shook his head. “I’m getting dressed. Stay right there.”

Eren smirked. He couldn’t help it. Armin got worked up over the smallest things. His grandfather slept like a bear in winter; there was no way he would wake up.

A few moments later, Armin appeared from around the back of his home. His ski hat was too big for him and he had to keep pushing it up. The scarf he was wearing had obviously not been used in years. It looked to be covered in dust. Armin tiptoed up to Eren and smiled softly.

“You don’t have to walk quiet,” Eren said. “We’re outside and alone. No one can hear you except for me.”

“That’s what you think,” Armin huffed, pushing his hat back up again. Even at fourteen, Armin was paranoid about nearly everything. And with good reason; though his neighborhood was considerably nicer than Eren’s, crime still ran amok. Drugs were especially prevalent on Burkett Road. An already skittish Armin was even more distrustful whenever he was walking down the street.

“C’mon. We’ve gotta go.”

“Your mom won’t be home until ten tomorrow morning. Why are you in a rush?”

“Why aren’t you?” Eren retorted, smiling a little. He pinched Armin’s nose, to which he received a smack on the wrist. “Let’s go. I’ve got somewhere to show you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Now, come on. It’s a few blocks from here.”

They trudged through the snow, Armin grumbling about the cold and Eren chuckling at the many complaints from the blond. The moon, though glowing with a soft and gentle light, was enough to light their way. The stars glimmered above their heads, watching from the canvas of the sky.

“It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?” Eren asked, turning to Armin and taking his small hand in his own. Eren had always marveled at the size of Armin’s hands; they were tiny but strong, soft as silk but extremely durable. But their best feature was that they fit into Eren’s perfectly.

“I’ll give you that,” Armin murmured. He lengthened his strides in a vain attempt to keep up before giving up. “Can you not walk to fast?”

“This is my normal pace. I think it’s you who needs to speed up,” Eren joked. However, he did slow his pace down a bit. Armin fell in beside him, a slight smile on his face. The moonlight reflected off his face, making it seem like he was glowing like the snow beneath their feet. He was beautiful.

Reiss Park didn’t have gates like other parks in the country of Abira. There was nothing to keep out the criminals of Shinganshina. Though they rarely appeared in the park, they were still a major threat. Even the walk to the park had been a risk. _But love means doing things you normally wouldn’t do,_ Eren thought, remembering his mother’s words. He mused that that must have included walking your boyfriend to a park in a dangerous town at midnight. 

They finally reached the park after a twenty-minute walk through the snow. Armin gave him a questioning look when they reached the entrance. “Can I ask what we’re doing?” He asked, looking around nervously.

“I remember when you said you wanted to see Reiss Park after a snowstorm. Today, we had one. I know that you rarely go here – and it’s always changing, so you never know what it looks like.” He paused to glance around, checking to make sure no one was there. The coast was clear, so he tugged on Armin’s hand and led him inside. “Whenever it snows, I sneak out here to look at it. It’s so beautiful in the moonlight. Just look at it.”

Armin’s gaze fell upon the park, and his face instantly lit up. “Wow,” he whispered, his breath creating a fog around his face. His eyes were bright and clear in the light; the reflection of the snow could be seen in them. “Oh, Eren. It’s beautiful.”

“I know,” he said simply. “I thought you would like it.”

“I do,” Armin said, turning to Eren and taking him in his arms. “Thank you.”

They began to walk around, admiring the park. Armin’s cheeks were red from the cold, and his nose was like a cherry, but he didn’t seem to care. Eren knew that his face probably looked worse in terms of redness. He’d been outside longer than Armin had, throwing the rocks at his window. But it was all worth it, seeing Armin’s face shining like the sun. Eren sighed happily, gently putting his arm around Armin’s waist and pulling him closer.

“We should probably go,” Armin said, pushing his hat back up on his head. “I don’t want to freeze to death.” He glanced at Eren, looking away briefly. 

“My house is closer. Do you want to stay the night with me?” Eren offered, hating how stupid his voice sounded. He looked down at his feet, blushing. “You can stay with me and then go home around eight. Your grandfather doesn’t wake up until ten, right?”

“Right.”

“Besides, he won’t be angry if you’re with me. And my mom won’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

Eren rolled his eyes. Armin was always so careful about being kind and courteous all the time. “Yes, I’m sure. My mom _adores_ you.”

“If you say so,” Armin muttered, taking Eren’s hand. “If we get in trouble, this is your fault.”

“Okay.”

“But I’ll still love you,” Armin grumbled. “Idiot.”

“I know,” Eren chuckled, leading the blond out the park and back onto the street. “But I’m the most loveable idiot you’ve ever met, right?”

“Right,” Armin replied, pulling Eren closer to him. “And the only idiot I love.”

“Even better.”

\---

Eren woke up suddenly, rubbing his eyes. He glanced over at his alarm clock; it was six-thirty a.m. 

Eren sighed heavily, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. He was no longer a bright, happy fourteen-year-old boy; he was now eighteen-year-old Eren, who was weighed down by his grievances and past. 

That night was one of the best in his life. It had been so nice just to _be_ with Armin. Even four years later, Eren could still remember the icy temperature, the soft light of the moon, Armin’s hand in his own. He rolled onto his side. Armin was sound asleep, his hands curled under his chin. His nose twitched slightly, and he moved closer to Eren. The brunette smiled softly. 

Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed Armin’s right hand. It was calloused and rough now, not soft and boyish as it had once been. But even now, it was still small. Even now, it still fit into Eren’s large, burly hand perfectly. 

Eren felt a tear slip out of his eye and down his cheek. He swallowed. He had forgotten how much he’d missed Armin. Buried underneath four years of anger directed at the blond was four years’ worth of loneliness and longing. For four years, Armin had not been there; in Eren’s heart, there had been a major hole. But now, it was beginning to be filled again. And though he’d resisted at first, he was fully letting Armin back in.

Armin’s eyes opened slightly. He looked at Eren through slit, sleepy eyes. “Hello,” he murmured, his eyes drooping closed again. He opened them up slightly again.

Eren exhaled slowly, gently squeezing Armin’s hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed it gently. Another tear slipped out, but he couldn’t care at that moment. He reached out and touched Armin’s face lightly. “Good morning,” he whispered, feeling a light from deep within him begin to feebly glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes for names used in the chapter:  
> Burkett - French, "From The Little Stronghold"  
> Abira - Israeli, "Strong"
> 
> \---
> 
> I listened to "A Cold Night Close To The End" for an hour while writing this. Oh my. I'm really sorry that this is more of a filler chapter than anything, but this scene plays a small role in a later chapter.
> 
> Updated today because I'll be gone Saturday. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you next Saturday!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You’re just imagining things. Calm down._

The gas station was completely empty when Eren entered. He was the first person to get there, and would likely be the only person for his four-hour shift. It was seven-thirty in the morning and most of the world was still sleeping. 

“Most” being the key word.

A young woman of about twenty entered the gas station, her face covered up by a hood. “Good morning,” Eren called, but she didn’t respond. She didn’t even buy or touch anything; she simply walked by an isle quickly and then left the gas station. Eren frowned. He went over to where she’s walked by, only to find that everything was the same. Nothing had been taken or stolen.

He turned around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her walking to her car. No one was there.

Eren sighed, rubbing his temple. Some strange people came early in the morning, but he’d never had someone flat-out disappear.

_Oh well,_ Eren thought, shrugging. _It’s probably nothing, anyway._ He turned back towards the register, determined to start the day off on a somewhat more normal note.

\---

Eren’s shift flew by uneventfully. No one came in at all, so he took the chance to get a bonus by cleaning the entire place. Ymir, with her hair pulled back and wearing ratty jeans, swung by around ten to take over at the gas station. She took the keys from him, nodding slightly to show her appreciation. “Thanks for cleaning up. If you hadn’t done it, I woulda had to.”

“No problem,” Eren replied, smiling. “I know how much you hate cleaning.”

“Like I said, thanks, kid,” she said, patting his head before shooing him out. “You’ve got a life to live,” she scolded. “Now, go on. Get.”

Eren shook his head and pushed open the door, stepping out into the morning air. The sky was clear and bright, not a cloud in sight. His Volkswagen was still parked out back with no graffiti or eggs on it. This morning, though starting off strange, was looking up.

\---

“So, like, you two are back together?” Petra asked, swirling her dishcloth around the outside of the glass. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she scrubbed away at it, despite her work doing no good. The glass was a hopeless case.

“I guess,” Eren said, staring down at the table. Just a few weeks ago, he’d been sitting here, terrified of Armin’s reappearance. 

Petra wrinkled her nose, turning to the trash can nearby. She tossed the glass into it, smiling as it landed at the bottom with a satisfying _clunk_. “Well, that’s good,” she chimed. “See, I knew you’d do the right thing. I told you to trust your heart and you did.” She paused briefly, a smile gracing her face. “I’m proud of you, Eren.”

“Thanks, Petra,” Eren replied, turning to look back behind him. The door had opened with a loud creaking noise, bringing his attention to it. Eren’s eyes narrowed. He recognized that hood. He turned back to Petra, trying to brush it off.

“Who the hell’s that?” Petra asked, craning her neck to see the person in question. “Looks familiar.”

“She does, doesn’t she?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m pretty sure she was at the gas station this morning,” Eren said. He wrinkled his nose; that wasn’t a very good explanation as to why her appearance was strange. “She just came in and didn’t buy anything. It was seriously weird,” he elaborated.

“Huh,” Petra muttered. “Well, in any case, you should skedaddle. The lunch rush’ll be here soon and they’re gonna need your seat.” She smiled at him, reaching out to touch his hand. “Have a good day, Eren. Be careful and take care of yourself, okay?” Petra’s eyes cut to the woman, then back to him. She pursed her lips, nodding for him to go.

“Okay,” he replied, getting up to leave. He saw the woman in the hood get up and approach the bar. Eren began to walk quickly, his heart beat rising. When he got to the door, he glanced back. The woman was sitting on the stool next to where he had been sitting.

Petra motioned at him to leave before turning to the woman. “Hello,” she said sweetly, “I’m Petra and it looks like I’ll be helping you today. What would you like?”

\---

Armin wasn’t waiting for him when Eren arrived home. The blond was most likely at the library or grocery store; either way, he’d be gone for a while. Armin was extremely indecisive when it came to books and brands of cereal.

The house was surprisingly cool when he entered. Eren had only one air conditioner – it was in the kitchen – but rarely ever used it. His bills already ate up most of his money; he didn’t need more expenses piled on top of that.

Eren flopped down into the recliner, sighing heavily. He glanced over at the quilt lying on the ground. The quilt had always held happy memories for him. His mother had sewn it stitch by stitch when he was a baby. Carla had embroidered all the designs with a careful, delicate hand. The quilt was beautiful. It was a remnant of his mother and a reminder of the day Armin had returned. He’d been sitting on the porch with the quilt draped over his shoulders, unaware that his childhood lover would reappear that very day.

Eren smiled a bit, reaching for the quilt and pulling it over himself. It still smelled faintly of Carla and his happy childhood. He ran his hands over the embroidery, marveling at the intricate detail. Carla was well-known for her beautiful handiwork and the effort and detail she put into every quilt.

Carla. Eren leaned his head against the back of the recliner and sighed heavily. It’d been four years since her death and he still wasn’t quite over it. 

Eren sometimes wondered if he’d _ever_ be over his mother’s death. She’d been ripped from his hands in the most horrible of ways, her body torn apart and ravaged by bullet holes. The gangsters who murdered her had been hauled away to jail and given seven years in prison for voluntary manslaughter. The faces of those men haunted Eren to that day; he’d seen them at the trial, looked right into their eyes. They were cold-blooded killers. They’d taken his mother away from him yet still had the audacity to look at him during their trial.

Eren breathed in, trying to hold back his tears. He wasn’t much for hating people, but those men deserved to be loathed forever. They deserved to be beaten and screamed at, so that they could see what they’d done. 

Eren sat up, a sick feeling in his stomach. He bolted out of his chair and went straight to the bathroom, falling to his knees in front of the trash can. He felt disgusting, horrible. Even after his vomiting had ceased, he sat slumped over the trash can. Finally, he got up. He rinsed out his mouth, washed his hands, and took the garbage bag out of the can. Eren carefully tied it in a knot at the top, then walked out of the bathroom and set it in the kitchen, by his back door. 

Eren grabbed his shoes, put them on, and then grabbed the trash bag. He dragged it out to the dumpster, wrinkling his nose at the appalling stench. Of all the things he hated about Shinganshina, the dumpsters were in the top ten on his list.

Eren tossed the bag into the dumpster, nearly gagging at the odor. He turned back to his home and took a few steps forward. 

A twig snapped from somewhere down the alley way. Eren’s head swiveled to the right, where the noise had come from. Over that way, trees lined the alley and cast large shadows over it. As far as he could see, there was no one down there. 

_You’re just imagining things. Calm down._

Eren began to walk back to his home again, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He couldn’t shake the strange feeling that someone was watching him.

Finally, Eren was back inside his home. He locked both the screen and main door once he entered, making sure all three of the locks were secured. Eren then turned to his windows, walking over and pulling the curtains together. His heart was pounding inside his chest like a horrifyingly loud drum. He could hear the beat of his heart in his head, could feel its pulse. Eren felt like he was going to be sick again.

But he had to finish closing his curtains. Eren mustered up all the strength he could and walked to the living room. Shakily, he tiptoed up to the window.

Eren drew in his breath suddenly. A woman was standing on the other side of the street. Though her face was concealed, he could tell she was looking at his home. Eren noticed two large men standing about ten yards behind her on the side walk. 

It wasn’t just any woman. It was the woman who had showed up to the gas station and the convenience store.

Eren pulled the curtains together, checked to make sure his door was locked, and ran to his bed room. He felt compelled to reach under his bed and feel around. Eren moved his hand around until he finally found what he was looking for. He grasped it firmly and pulled it out.

The manila folder that Jean had given him was in Eren’s hands. He stared down at it, a lump forming in his throat. He couldn’t open; not yet, at least. Eren glanced at his clock, knowing that he needed answers. Eren ran over the list Jean had given him in his head; the Dusty Rag’s employees, Petra, Levi.

_The person there that can help you most is probably Levi Ackerman. He used to live in Stohess._

Eren gulped. He put the manila folder back under the bed, then crawled under the covers. He desperately tried to steel himself for what would come. He had one thing to do the next day. In the morning, he was going to talk to Levi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh snap.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this week's chapter! See you next Saturday!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren didn’t know what he’d expected Levi to be like, but it was definitely not this.

The next morning, Eren woke up at nine and got dressed quietly. Armin was still sleeping; he’ arrived home at eleven the night before and fell asleep as soon as he got home. Armin had no idea about the strange woman or the deep fear Eren was now living in.

Eren quietly got down on his knees and grabbed the manila folder out from under the bed. He crept out of the room and closed the door behind him. Before he left, he made sure all the curtains were closed and doors locked. When he was satisfied with the house’s security, he left for the Dusty Rag.

No one was at the Dusty Rag that morning, save for the employees. Eren parked his car in the back between two others and got out, walking briskly to the back door. He slipped inside and sighed heavily with relief. Now, all he had to do was find Levi.

Petra greeted him with a wide smile when he entered. “Hey, Eren!” she said, hopping up to him. “Whatd’ya need?”

“I need to speak to Levi,” he said, pulling the folder close to his chest. “Jean said I should talk to him. It’s urgent.”

Petra inspected him carefully before nodding. “This way,” she said, making her way over to a staircase in a far corner. Eren had never noticed it there before; it nearly blended into the wall. He followed her up the stairs and into a small attic-like place. There was a closed door to his left when he got up the stairs. He glanced at Petra.

She sighed gently, walking up to the door. She turned to Eren. “He’s kind of sharp,” Petra warned. She reached out and touched Eren’s shoulder. “Be careful and don’t let your feelings get too hurt. Hange will show up soon – probably within ten minutes – and he’ll soften up a bit. Bringing up Erwin might help your case, too.” She smiled softly. “Good luck.”

Petra walked past him, heading back down the stairs. Her footfalls were extremely loud for such a small person. Eren glanced around. The attic area was dusty. Boxes were stacked by Levi’s door. They were covered in a thin layer of dust. The single light bulb flickered overhead. An oculus window, sitting on the wall left of Levi’s door, let some light stream in; more light could have gotten in had the window been a bit cleaner.

Eren swallowed before walking up to the door and knocking loudly. He stepped away from the door as if he were afraid a beast would pop out and devour him.

“Come in,” a monotonous voice called.

Eren opened the door up, hugging the folder close to his body. He gulped as he stepped in and shut the door behind him. A person he presumed to be Levi sat perched in front of him, his legs kicked up on the desk and a pocky stick in his mouth.

Eren didn’t know what he’d expected Levi to be like, but it was definitely not _this_. He’d always presumed Levi to be tall, commanding, and tough. Instead, what he saw was a small man with a cravat and an irritated expression on his face.

Levi adjusted his feet, moving his right over the left. He eyed Eren suspiciously. “Don’t stand there, stupid. What do you need?”

“Do you know Jean?” Eren asked dumbly. He visibly cringed.

Levi cocked an eyebrow and sighed. “Yeah.” He nodded at the chair in front of his desk. “Before we get to talkin’, I think you oughtta sit.”

Eren took his seat obediently and sat the folder down in front of him. “So,” he began, “Armin – he’s my, uh, boyfriend – he came back. Jean brought me this folder and told me to talk to you if I had questions.”

“Questions about what?” Levi asked, breaking off a bit of his pocky stick and chewing it thoughtfully. 

“About Stohess.”

Levi’s cold gray eyes narrowed. “What do you need to know? Stohess is shit. Drugs, prostitution, you name it – Stohess has it. Disgusting fucking place.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But about that Armin kid…his last name happen to be ‘Arlert’?”

“Yes,” Eren replied.

“Huh,” Levi tipped back in his chair, his face calm and cold. He regarded Eren carefully. “Sounds weird. His name popping up with the mention of Stohess.”

“Jean said that he thought Armin’s alibi was sketchy,” Eren confessed. He looked down at the folder. “He brought me this folder. I haven’t looked in it yet. I’m kind of scared to.”

“Nothing in a police file can be good,” Levi agreed. “Trust me, my fiancé’s the head of the police department. I’ve seen those files. They’re pretty awful.”

Eren gulped, sneaking another glance at the folder. “I don’t know if I ever want to look into it.”

“I don’t blame you,” Levi said, reaching for another box of pocky. He put the stick between his teeth and glanced at his feet, inspecting them briefly before looking back at Eren. “I never wanted Erwin to see my files. They make me look like an idiot.” He stopped, a strange look of fondness crossing his face. “Maybe I am.”

“You don’t seem like one,” Eren replied. “You’ve built yourself a small empire in a shitty place. That’s a small victory.” He paused before going on. “Though admittedly, your attic could use more work.”

Levi pursed his lips. “Real funny,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, is Stohess all you wanted to know about? ‘Cause a quick google search could’ve fixed you right up.”

“Well, I wanted to know about Shinganshina. The drug dealers. Annie,” Eren answered.

Levi raised his eyebrows, moving his jaw slightly. He glanced off at the floor before looking back at Eren. He was about to speak when an eccentric-looking woman burst through the door, throwing her bag on the floor. She gave Eren a questioning look before directing that look at Levi.

“Sit down, Hange,” Levi said. “I’m telling Eren all about how shitty Shinganshina is.”

“Sounds like a story I’d like to butt in on,” she replied, giggling a little. She turned to the corner, pulling out a chair and slinging it down beside Eren. “So, kid,” she said, “what’s your name again?”

“Eren.”

“Eren! Nice to meet you. Levi here is a very intelligent man – he knows a lot about the ‘underground’ side of Abira. He used to be a part of it.”

“So that’s why Jean recommended that I see you,” Eren said, putting the pieces together. “Because you know how it feels to be there first-hand.”

“Yeah,” Levi answered, shrugging.

“I heard something about Annie,” Hange said. Her voice turned venomous. “That bitchy snake. God, I hope she gets arrested and beaten within an inch of her life. With all the havoc she’s caused, she deserves it.”

“Why…?” Eren asked cautiously. “What’d she do? I mean, I know she’s a drug dealer, but has she actually destroyed things?”

“Lives, mostly,” Hange replied bitterly. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Annie’s a complete and total snake in every sense. Drug dealing isn’t her only business venture, either. If you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, you soon will,” Hange said. She turned to Levi briefly. The small, irritable man had snatched the manila folder and some point during Hange’s rant. He was looking through it with a blank expression, carefully examining each page. She turned back to Eren. 

“Do you…do you know Armin?” Eren asked, feeling his heart beat irregularly. He inhaled deeply, trying to steel himself. 

“I know him,” Hange replied. “Levi does, too.”

“Mhm,” Levi mumbled, continuing to flip through the folder. His brows were furrowed and he looked thoughtful. There was a strange emotion on his face that Eren couldn’t read. It was almost like…worry.

“He’s a nice boy, but he’s got a dark side,” Hange said. She sat back, her nose twitching. “That sounds so damn cliché, like a tween movie. Let me rephrase that: He’s racked up quite a few documents in the nation’s police files. But it was never entirely his fault.”

“Not ‘entirely’?”

Hange sighed heavily. Her eyes were filled with sadness. “He got forced into some horrible shit. If my suspicions are right, it was at the hands of Annie and her friends.”

_Annie,_ Eren thought, staring down at his hands. _And her friends?_

“Who – what…what does Annie look like? Who is she, exactly?”

“Annie Leonhardt,” Levi stated monotonously. “Criminal extraordinaire. She’s said to be small, blonde, and bitchier than Erwin when he doesn’t get a good night’s sleep. Typically wears baggy clothes and is rarely seen without two hulking slabs of meat accompanying her. As far as I know, they’re called Reiner and Bertolt.”

Eren’s stomach did a somersault. Woman in baggy clothes? Two incredibly creepy, tall men? He continued to stare at his hands, which were now wringing. His breathing was shallow. Eren felt his head spinning. Hange put a hand on his shoulder, but nothing could give him reassurance or comfort now. He reached up, gripping the desk firmly.

_Oh god._

“Eren…are you alright?” Hange asked, rubbing his shoulder. 

Eren blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his head. “I saw them,” he whispered. “Annie and those men. I saw them across the street from me and in this bar and at my job…She was there. That was her.”

Eren looked up at Levi with horror written all over his face. “She’s here,” he whimpered, eyes wide. _And there’s no way she’ll be leaving without a prize._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeek ;-; Sorry for the extremely late update!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this (late) chapter! See you on Saturday!


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